God's Gonna Cut You Down
by O'MalleytheAlleyCat
Summary: AU to beginning of Season five. Heaven and Hell have been having their way with the world. God isn't so appreciative. Approaching Dean Winchester he asks him to be his angel. Dean agrees and becomes the most terrifying thing to walk the earth. Bent on vengeance, Dean moves to take down Michael and Lucifer. In the end he sacrifices everything. Strange and not the happiest.
1. To Fight

AU to early Season 5.

Chapter 1: To Fight

* * *

The hopelessness had been allowed to settle. Sam was somewhere else, Bobby left without legs and with a gift of lies. Dean was driving the impala to an unknown destination. Despair, self-loathing, Winchester breath; all of it whispering through Dean. No amount of miles would put him far enough away from who he was and his desperate emotions. Nothing to take away the end of the world, an event which had been going since the day his Dad's last breath had been to whisper to him the first sin.

Kill. It was all he'd been ordered to do, kill or save. His whole life that montage. Kill the monsters, save the innocent. Only the condemned or the saved; his father had raised him without the grey of those who had sinned but fought. Hunting had reinforced it. Now though he was one of those many, the ones who could never be saved but struggled away from darkness. And then they'd taken the one thing Dean had always been convinced was a light and turned him into one of those damned sinners who cried.

There wasn't any hope in this world and Dean knew the only thing he could ever do was fight. It was the only thing he knew and the only thing that stood with clarity in his life. On some old highway, in the dark of the night, Dean knew the only thing he could do was fight.

A figure appeared in the road and Dean slammed on his breaks, wheels screeching, teeth clenched and blood pumping as his heart vaulted from the surprise.

A man, in the road. Just standing, eyes staring intensely through the dirt grimed windshield and directly at Dean. Dean was caught by it, and in an instant the man disappeared. Dean withdrew himself from the car.

Stumbling towards the front of his car he saw blood brightened by the headlights of his baby. Drawn in letters large, that paved across the road, was the words 'God Listens'. Dean knew it was lamb's blood, he couldn't say why, he just knew. Dean immediately looked around for the man. And there he was again five feet from Dean, feet planted just inches from the bloody letter 'i'.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled. "I'm God, Dean."

Dean nodded, his disbelief coming through.

"I'll make it simple again. You'll be the one who kills the condemned; end the apocalypse before it can begin. You can be whole again Dean, just say yes."

"Yes to what?"

"To being my avenger. To end the pride of the angels, the avarice of the demons."

"I'm not going to be a goddamn vessel for Michael, so you can forget it."

The man chuckled. "I want Michael dead."

Silence. Dean stared at the large letters written in the blood.

"I made this world, I made the humans and my people, my other children have destroyed them. I want it to stop, and you want to fight. Say yes and you will be my soldier."

"I don't want to be anyone's bitch."

"You've always been someones bitch, Dean. You followed your father's orders, you fought the monsters because he ordered you to. I will only ever give you one order. Everything else will be you."

The man pulled out a gun, offering it to Dean.

"I called your name, Dean, now go do my will."

Dean grasped the gun and the man and letters vanished. Dean was left on the highway, his car parked in the middle of the road with head lights pouring light onto now empty pavement. He glanced around, almost expecting the man to appear again. Questions sparked in his mind, was it really God? And what was he supposed to do?

In an instant an answer came. It didn't matter if it was God, all that mattered was that he was given something that let him fight. Staring at the gun in his hand, Dean knew what he was supposed to do. The gun was meant to take the unclean, Dean knew who that had to start with. Pulling the gun up, Dean ran an appreciative hand along the barrel and over the handle. It wasn't a make he was familiar with, it wasn't one that had been made by a person, it was God's hand gun, God's weapon. Lifting the gun he set it in his mouth, cocking the gun he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

On the highway the only noise to be heard was the purr of the impala as it sat idle and the blast of a gun and the thud of body meeting ground.

* * *

Sam was in a motel, where, he couldn't remember. He was exhausted and nothing seemed to matter but the unholy distance between him and his brother, a distance he could never make up. He was settled on a bed, fully clothed and completely incapable of doing anything as of yet. His hands were clasped and hanging between his knees in what could only be a monsters mocking plea of a prayer. Sam hadn't prayed since the day he'd met an angel. Tainted body unable to produce words to invoke the mercy of a God who could only condemn him.

"Sam." Cas said urgent and worried. Sam startled, jerking up to where Castiel had appeared several feet away.

"Cas?"

"Where is your brother?" the tone was demanding, serious, and above all extremely urgent. Sam frowned, head still muddled.

"I-I don't know. I haven't seen him."

Cas looked around the room as if that would produce the missing Winchester.

"Something immense has happened, something with the angels."

Sam stood up, worry finally beginning to flow through him.

"What do you mean? What happened? Did something happen to Dean?"

Cas looked up Sam, eyes meeting his in an intense stare.

"There was a power, some kind of energy, something with the grace of an archangel, with grace beyond an archangel has appeared."

"What? How?"

Cas shook his head. "I do not know."

"Did the angels do this?"

"Angels could not do this, only-" Cas broke off, a new sense of urgency entering his face.

"I must leave."

"Wait, Cas!"

The angel was already gone.

* * *

Dean awoke, he was still standing on the high way. He was already upright, the gun still clutched in his right hand. A feeling of power washed over him, one of rightness that made his head spin with satisfaction. Dean looked at the gun in his hand a small smile spreading across his lips. He glanced back at his Baby and saw where blood and brain matter had splattered over the pavement and Baby's hood.

God had listened and Dean's body was thrumming with a power beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Determination spread though him and a sudden knowledge of exactly what he had to do.

The angels had better run, Dean Winchester was out to do God's will, and God was gonna cut them down. In a flash Dean was gone.


	2. First Angel, First Blood

Chapter 2: First Angel, First Blood

* * *

The small group of reconnaissance angels never saw it coming. One second they were alone talking about demon movement around a hell's gate then the next a man was standing in the room with three angels on the ground their blood spilling to the floor and one gripped in the hand of the killer.

"Dean Winchester?" The remaining angel gargled out. A cold smile grew on the face of the man.

"God's Angel. I'm giving you a minute to answer my question and then I'm going to kill you."

The angel chuckled despite being several inches from the floor held in a one handed grasp by a man with an angel killing gun.

"You aren't getting anything Winchester, Zachariah and Michael claim that you're chosen to be his vessel but filth like you isn't even worthy to be a demon's ride."

Dean tilted his head to the side observing the angel in a clinical manner.

"Where is Michael?"

"You're thick headed aren't you, I already said I wouldn't talk."

Dean suddenly released the angel, allowing him to collapse to the floor.

"Good, then die."

Dean didn't move a muscle but the angel began to convulse.

"What-" it let out a pained moan "are you doing?"

"God's will."

With a bright snap the grace was wrenched out of the angel and a blood curdling scream sounded. Dean still didn't move but the grace was crushed, destroyed in a terrible burn of power.

Dean left without a glance back, the angels' blood splattered on his pants and flecking his collar.

Hours later Zachariah appeared in the room. He'd been meant to meet here to discuss demon movement with some of his lower angels. Instead he was met with a scene of macabre beauty. Pacing Zachariah felt panic begin to tremble within him for the first time in centuries. Something had done this to his subordinates. Taking stock of the first three bodies he noted it was with a weapon that was unknown to him, a gun which could kill an angel. Not even the colt used by the pathetic humans could kill an angel.

Zachariah's eyes settled on the last form, this angel hadn't been killed by the gun. Approaching the body, Zachariah crouched next to it, observing it with confusion. It looked as if something had wrenched out the angel's grace. But there was something more, the violent taking of the grace explained the dead body but something else was still wrong. Zachariah felt his grace stutter in fear when he realized just what it was. Something had destroyed the grace, taken it and killed it without a hint of mercy and had done so quickly. That was the feeling that had permeated the room. The thick stench of dead grace, the smell and feeling of pure light being massacred.

Nothing could do this, no archangel, Lucifer nor Michael could do this. The only being that had the power was God and for God this was violent and messy. Zachariah stood up and took a few steps back in horror. Something was going on that was bad, very very bad. With a flutter of wings he left the room and headed back to where he kept quarters on this God forsaken piece of dirt.

His second in command along with other more higher up angels looked in interest and confusion when he appeared with a fluster of wings and a grim face.

"Something's happened, something bad. I want all of you to find out what it is now!" The group responded immediately, bodies pushing away from chairs and disappearing. His second in command however approached him.

"What do you mean by 'something's happened'?"

Zachariah turned a furious look on the angel.

"Something bad, just find out what."

The angel didn't leave, it could perceive the fear hidden beneath the anger. The only time Zachariah had ever shown fear was when Michael and Lucifer had fought and God had threatened to dissemble the heavens, it had been thousands of years since that time.

"What happened?"

"Something destroyed grace, ripped it from a body and destroyed it."

The angel paled. That was bad. He disappeared the next second.

"Hello Zachariah."

Zachariah turned around to see Dean Winchester standing at the end of the room, a gun in hand. His eyes narrowed and he held back a grunt of disgust.

"I don't have time for you mud monkey, bigger fish are cooking then you."

Zachariah threw out a hand to send the man away but nothing happened. Dean began walking across the room stepping closer to Zachariah. That was when Zachariah noticed the gun, it was unfamiliar, nothing made by humans. An unpleasant feeling of unease settled in Zachariah.

"Where's Michael?"

Confusion colored Zachariah's features.

"You want to say yes? Now?" He asked incredulously.

"I want to kill him."

Zachariah laughed, the Winchester had finally cracked. However Dean just continued to step forward, he was now only feet from Zachariah. And that was when he smelled it. Angel blood and pure power. Zachariah frowned.

"What, what is that?" hesitancy and fear, things which hadn't plagued the angel since the fall of Adam.

"You've played God for too long now, Zachariah. Tell me where Michael is."

Zachariah took a faltering step back as Dean took another one forward.

"What are you?" trepidation made Zachariah take another step back.

"I can sense every piece of grace, but not Michael's. Where is he?"

"Michael is in heaven."

Dean stopped his advance. He looked confused for a moment.

"How do I get into heaven?"

Zachariah chuckled nervously "I don't know what you are Winchester, but I'm not telling you anything."

Dean smiled. The gun in his hand molded into a knife.

"I was hoping you would say that."

The next ten hours took Dean back to a time he both loathed and secretly loved. Torturing for ten years had made him skilled, placed him in a position that made it so that he can render even a thousand year old angel to a blithering mess that begs. It helps when he thinks that Zachariah is part of the reason his little brother spent those agonizing hours detoxing and is now one of the most hated beings on earth.

Ten hours in Zachariah tells him about the gates, what they are, that they can give you passage into the holy realm.

It's two days, three hours, and thirteen minutes later that Zachariah tells him where the pearly gates are located. Dean spared God's weapon more work and wordlessly smashed Zachariah's grace into nothing. He left an empty vessel with wide empty eyes and torn limbs.

* * *

It's a week and a half later that Cas appeared again in a motel room where Sam is at. Sam has been researching why Angels have been showing up dead in alarming numbers. He's tried calling Dean but his brother's phone doesn't even go to voicemail, merely informs him that the line has been disconnected.

Cas is bloody and Sam immediately assumed it was his own blood. He ran to the angel, hands patting Cas down to check for wounds. There aren't any, Cas is perfectly whole. There aren't even bruises. Sam stepped back worry in his eyes and an anticipation for something bad.

"Cas?"

Cas turned towards Sam, eyes haunted.

"Your brother has been chosen as God's angel. He is killing all the angels."

Sam stared at Cas.

"He's-what?"

"He isn't human anymore."

Sam frowned.

"I was there. I had been captured by some angels. He killed them all, pulled their grace out and destroyed it. He spared me."

Sam watched Cas who seemed to be in shock.

"Why?"

Cas was looking at the wall blankly.

"He made a deal with the Lord. Dean is the archangel."

"What do we do?"

Cas lowered his eyes to the bed.

"Nothing."

Sam sat back down, overwhelmed by the news.

"He will have the Lord's vengeance. There is nothing which can stop him but God himself."


	3. Lucifer

Chapter 3: Lucifer

* * *

Entering heaven, some don't come back. Until then every betrayer would be taken and made to suffer. A month went by and every Angel and Demon which dared cross the path of Dean Winchester was hacked down. A path of carnage that was terrifying. Dean Winchester was on a war path, eyes roving the earth for the greatest betrayer; Lucifer the Morning Star himself.

A month and six days after Zachariah's untimely end Dean found Lucifer. Pent up in an abandoned building in Chicago, over three hundred demons pacing the grounds.

Dean Winchester walked straight in, every demon that got in his way collapsing in blood from bullets that sprayed like rain from the gun of God.

Lucifer was waiting, a cruel smirk sitting on his face as he sat in a chair. He was lazing back as though not a worry in the world bothered him.

"Dean, I've been waiting for you."

Dean regarded Lucifer coldly, gun hanging by his side.

"You're going to suffer."

Lucifer smiled at the statement.

"Now, now, no need to be so forward Dean. I heard you were the master at foreplay."

Dean pulled the gun up and shot Lucifer between the eyes. The body fell, slumping at first into the confines of the chair. Moments later a dark chuckle emanated from the body. Lucifer slowly straightened. His fingers bored into his vessel's head, bone cracking as he probed for the bullet. Withdrawing the bullet he looked at it smiling.

"Now Dean, we both know that I'm not some little angel you can just put out with a little bitty gun."

Looking up at Dean his smile soured. "I am after all one of the archangels, the archangel who defied God."

Standing Lucifer threw the bullet away from himself.

"I've heard big things about you sweetheart, big things."

Lucifer bent next to one of the dead bodies and pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of the well dressed demon.

"Taking out my problems one by one, starting with Zachariah and then all the other angels in between. I can't thank you enough for that. So lets be realistic. You-me" Lucifer waved a hand between them.

"We're one and the same. We are big fish in a little pond. I mean, I'd say 'there ain't enough room for the two of us in this town' but I like to think that I'm good at sharing."

Lucifer was now dabbing at his maimed forehead with the silk handkerchief.

"So whaddya say, partner?" Lucifer twisted the accent at the end, mockingly playing a southern sound.

"I said you're going to suffer."

Lucifer sighed. "And here I was really hoping we could be friends. Guess you just want to fight, sounds like the Dean Winchester I know and love."

Lucifer then began to make his way towards Dean.

"We'll make this quick. I do have to rally up some more followers now that you've properly emancipated them all. You're gonna make me just busy as a bee."

Dean hadn't responded at all so far. Now though a small half smile pushed up. Lucifer began to advance further when suddenly he found himself unable to move. A confused look made it's way onto his face and he looked up at Dean with curiosity.

"How are you doing that?" there wasn't any fear, just a question tinged with curiosity.

Dean didn't respond. Lucifer frowned then, a twinge of pain showing on his face.

"Ow." Lucifer looked back up at Dean, this time with more interest and just a speck of fear.

"What are you doing?" this time it was more demanding and less curious.

"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay." Dean said coldly

Lucifer was glaring at Dean now, anger pouring from his face.

"Your just my father's little bitch, aren't you Dean Winchester?"

Lucifer began to shake as light began beaming from his vessel.

"Just a useless little pawn! No respect for yourself Dean?! Just sell yourself to the highest bidder?!"

The light was growing and the body of Lucifer started convulsing.

There was an inhuman screech, the sound stretched but stopped suddenly, leaving with the light as the body slumped to the ground.

* * *

Sam stared at the television in shock. Three hundred and fifty eight dead near an abandoned building in Chicago. No obvious signs of death, just bodies laying around. He knows as soon as he sees it who it is, who was there and who killed them.

Dean had killed the devil. No sooner than Sam realized who and what had happened Cas appeared in the room.

"I know where your brother is going to be next. He is going to open the gates to heaven."

"Cas" there is desperation and pain "We-should we?-what do we do?"

"Is this something we should be stopping? I mean, Dean just killed the devil, the devil Cas. He just stopped the apocalypse."

Sam set a hand on his hip "And if we're right about where he's going next, he'll be taking out the other major player in the apocalypse."

Cas nodded, however his gaze was far away.

"If Dean finishes Sam, he will not be who he was. Already he has changed."

Sam frowned, Cas was making this sound like the holy version of his demon blood change.

"What do you mean Cas?"

"I mean that Dean Winchester will not be saved from what he is. He is a killer, though for God, he is still a killer. You cannot destroy grace as he did without it changing you."

"So what do we do?"

Cas sighed and sat down on one of the beds.

"I'm afraid there is nothing that we can do. Your brother cannot be stopped, nothing exists which can do that."

Sam seated himself across from the angel.

"There's gotta be something we can do. I mean, Dean's already stopped the apocalypse, we need to stop him before he changes. Before we-"

Sam faltered his eyes flashing away from Cas' gaze. He then continued in a quieter voice.

"Before we lose him."

"I'm sorry Sam, the only thing we could do is to speak with your brother. Reason with him to stop."

They both know that that won't work, but it's something.

"So, where are these gates?"

"They are located in Arlington County, Virginia. At a place which humans frequent often. A graveyard I think."

"Arlington cemetery?" Sam's voice was part disbelief and part surprise.

Cas looked at him in confusion. "I do not know of this place, but I can show you the exact place where the gates are located."

Cas placed a finger on Sam's head and pictures flew through his head, the prominent one a large block of marble with the inscription 'Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God'.

"The gates of heaven are at the Tomb of the Unknowns?"

Cas frowned again in confusion.

"I am also not familiar with this place, however it is where we will find your brother."


	4. Wrenching Heaven's Gates

Chapter 4: Wrenching Heaven's Gates

* * *

Sam and Cas had been at the gates for over a week now. Dean hadn't shown up and Sam felt a twinge of worry, wondering if his brother was ever going to show up. It wasn't exactly easy to hang around the place for so long without people noticing. Spend a day there, not strange. Two, you must have someone close there. Three, and people start to wonder, especially when you are literally spending all day.

Finally though, Dean came. Soundlessly he appeared standing several feet from the tomb. The reaction of the guards surrounding the tomb was instantaneous. Their guns made it a few inches before they collapsed. Sam and Cas gaped at the scene for several moments before they moved. Sam spoke first.

"Dean?!" Dean turned, a cold hard look in his eyes, one Sam was unfamiliar with. It was a look Dean didn't even have when he was killing a monster, it chilled Sam to his soul. Cas took a step forward and Dean's eyes fell on him.

"I told you what I would do if I saw you again."

Sam's terrified at the tone Dean uses. Cas hesitates, taking a quick step back. Dean just tilts his head, expression never changing. Cas is gone. Sam looks around before settling on that the angel either disappeared or Dean made him.

"Where's Cas?" he asked hesitantly.

"Back in your motel in the bathroom stuck in a ring of holy oil." it's so hard and straightforward, Sam nearly cringes. Sam however takes another step forward so he's a meager five feet away.

"Don't get in my way Sam."

"Dean." Sam said imploringly. He took another step forward shortening the distance to four feet. He glanced at the bodies of the soldiers.

"They're not dead Sam."

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. If Dean wasn't just killing people for fun then maybe his brother was good for reasoning with.

"I'm going to do it Sam, this is reasoning, God's reasoning."

Sam looked pained. "Dean." he said again, imploring again.

"You do this, and I lose you."

"Sam. You don't lose me this way. This is me fixing everything you did."

Sam's face turned to one of pure agony.

"Dean, please, you don't have to fix it."

Dean's face has had yet to change expression the entire time.

"If you get in my way, I'll kill you Sam. I'll send you to heaven."

"I can't let you do this Dean."

Dean took a step forward towards the tomb.

"You need sacrifice to open the gates. Anything, a tear of grief or thousands of lives." Dean looked around at the cemetery that they're standing in.

"It doesn't have to be a sacrifice made now either."

Sam took another step closer, three feet away and his brother is close enough to touch.

"Please Dean. You've already stopped the apocalypse, you don't need to do this. Cas says it's going to change you, make you something that you won't come back from."

"It's not just the apocalypse Sam, all who betrayed need to be taken. The long tongued liars the demons and the back biting angels. I can fix it all."

Sam looks desperately at his brother.

"This isn't the way, you shouldn't have to, you shouldn't have to give yourself up for this."

For once a bit of emotion wormed itself onto Dean's face, pity and regret.

"Sam, you were so willing to give yourself to it, you have given yourself to it. Sold parts of you that you're not going to get back. I'm your brother and no one else is going to do the same to end this. God has given me a way to do it that will work."

Dean took another step towards the tomb but Sam was in front of him, intervening. Dean stopped before he walked into Sam. Sam was holding out his hands imploringly, his face twisted in a look of pleading. Dean pulled out the gun from his back and pointed it so it was resting an inch from Sam's forehead.

"Last time Sam, you move or I kill you."

Sam was crying now, tears pooling up and tracking down his face. He shook his head no.

"Please Dean, don't do this."

Dean nodded as if he was expecting Sam's behavior. The gun morphed into a knife and Dean plunged it into Sam's stomach. His brother let out a terrible keening sound, his knees giving out from under him. Dean helped him fall to the ground, cradling his little brother to his chest. Placing a hand on his head Dean watched the pain ridden look on Sam's face flutter away and his muscles release their tension.

Sam lifted a hand to touch his brother's face.

"Dean?" it's soft and faint, not from pain, Dean had taken that away, but from the confusion of dying. Dean smiled, one of love.

"It's alright Sammy, close your eyes."

Sam's eyes slipped shut and a minute later his last breath shuddered out, body growing limp in Dean's arms. The smile left Dean's face and he set the body gently on the ground. Kneeling he pulled the knife from the body's gut. Standing Dean stepped up to the tomb. Looking at the knife for a moment he then took his forefinger and wiped the blood from it. He then moved his finger across the front of the tomb.

Light began pouring from it followed by an inhuman sound of millions crying. A loud thunderous crack resounded through the area, the surrounding trees being thrust to the ground by a pulse of power. Double doors appeared from the tomb and swung open, light pouring out. Dean took a step forward, eyes looking up to take in the stairs that ascended.

He turned however to look back at Sam's body. Walking over to it he bent down and lifted it.

"I can't Sam. I'm fixing heaven for you, killing the angels for God, and sparing the world for us."

The empty body said nothing, merely remaining lax in his arms.

Turning back towards the gates he stepped through and the doors swung shut behind him. Everything then returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. The blood vanished. Seconds later Cas appeared near the tomb. Without having seen it, he knew. He knew that Sam Winchester was dead and that Dean Winchester had entered heaven.


	5. Michael's End

Chapter 5: The End of Michael

* * *

Heaven can be described as many things, variation being pulled from the fact that each person pictures a different heaven. However that is only one part of heaven, the part which is used to occupy the souls of the dead in relative happiness. The part that humans are well acquainted with. The other part of heaven is the domain of the angels, the home in which they resided that had been created for them by their father.

So as Dean stepped into heaven, Sam was put somewhere else. Left at the top of the steps alone, Dean followed the angelic pull of Michael's grace. It was so brilliant, so bright and clean. Angels had long forgotten the beauty and purity of the grace which gave them power. Once it had been what guided them, what made angels creatures of peace and protection. But they forgot and grace fell to being used as merely power, a power which whispered and coaxed Dean to it.

He stepped through the light, Sam's body disappearing to his part of heaven. Dean felt Michael's presence, could feel the pull of the archangel's superior grace. It made the part of him that relished death excited. He was going to destroy Michael, take his very essence and destroy it.

He followed it, angels tumbling from his path. They had heard of his killing but more than that they had heard the screams and cries as their brethren had been slaughtered in the most painful way possible. If heaven could shake in fear then it would do so at the thought of Dean Winchester stepping foot into it.

If Dean thought he had to look long he was mistaken, Michael came to him.

Michael in his true form was nearly pure light. Bright and spectacular. Without a body the angel was practically all grace. It was beauty personified, an image which stirred not only your sight but every sense in your body. The absolute power and majesty was overwhelming. It was hard to believe that the angel was so petty, cared so little for life.

Dean however was immune. To him, Michael was merely the last to fall; the last opponent of God.

Dean stalked through heaven and nothing dared interfere. Michael appeared in front of him, grace beaming at its brightest.

"Dean Winchester."

Dean impassively looked at the archangel. His weapon, in the form of a knife, slid from where it had resided up his sleeve in waiting. Dean felt euphoria fill him as he anticipated the moment when he would bring Michael to the significance of nothing; when he would destroy the brightest grace to exist.

"You are a fool if you think you can fight me."

Dean cocked his head and a moment later a grumbling laugh fell from his lips. It was as chilling as it was mirthless. Dean Winchester had been arrogated for this by God himself, the father of Michael and the creator of the world. To think that he would defy his father.

"You're dead already."

Michael's arrogance faltered.

"You think you can kill me? God's greatest archangel?"

"You betrayed God, Michael. You left your father like a bad son, disobeyed his orders to love the creatures you abhor. He handed me this weapon and told me to hunt down his betrayers. You're no more his archangel than a demon."

Amusement painted Dean's voice and his eyes danced with an acerbic pleasure.

The grace rolled in anger, flashing all the brighter, as if Michael could burn Dean from existence. All it did was heighten Dean's sense, sharpen the power to destroy the grace.

"I am my father's greatest son!"

The roar would have shaken earth itself but all it did was cause Dean's lips to turn in a sadistic smile. Michael's rage increased, attempting to destroy all within reach. The angels which had already withdrawn raced to escape the wrath of the archangel.

With a twitch of his hand Dean caused the archangel to stop, his grace and power halting in its destructive path.

Michael twisted in agony, and Dean raised his hand, fingers splayed so like his brothers when he was destroying the essence of a demon.

There was a sound, it could be described as a scream but it was so much more. It was the noise of death; the very sound to describe pain.

"Stop!" Micheal had dropped all the anger and self-righteous pomp. There was nothing but pure desperation and pleading. Dean's smile grew. This was the part which made him feel the most powerful, the part which filled him with an intoxicating sense of dominion. Nothing could stand in his way.

"Stop, please, please have mercy!"

Dean frowned at the word mercy. How could the archangel comprehend the meaning of mercy when he showed so little of it. Billions of beings could die for him to fight his brother and yet the mere thought of mercy had never crossed his mind.

With a feeling of righteous gratification Dean formed a fist and the grace pulsed in pure torment and anguish. He was slowly tearing it to threads and pieces before crushing it into nothing. The sound intensified and the heaven around them seemed to shudder from it.

Dean tightened his hand and the sound sharply increased to die suddenly. With it the light of Michael disappeared. It seemed to take all light with it and Dean was left in a dark space of nothing. He paused a moment before lowering his hand in satisfaction. Michael was dead; every enemy was gone, killed by Dean's hand and God's weapon.

Dean looked down at the weapon which now sat in his still hand as the gun which God had originally offered him. It seemed so simple and insignificant, an ivory handle and thing sharp lines alongside round curving ones.

Dean frowned, now that everyone was dead, who was he to kill? He looked up from the gun to the surrounding darkness. There was nothing. The other angels had fled at the first sound and the dull murmur of the human heaven was the only thing to prove that something existed. Dean thought about the angels on earth, about hunting them down and killing them.

The thought died though, he couldn't do that; he wasn't allowed to do that. Confusion flittered across his face and he stumbled a little as his head grew dizzy. A hole opened in him at the thought of what he was supposed to do? How could he live after this? After killing the textural manifestation of innocence and purity.

A deep and sudden sadness filled him and he fell to his knees. Dean Winchester had murdered purity and innocence and now that he was done he had nothing, could do nothing. Tears pouring from his eyes he looked back at the weapon which had made it all possible, he threw it to the side and buried his face in his hands.

Dean Winchester broke, fallen on his knees in devastation.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Man of Heaven and Hell

* * *

Dean had no idea how long he was there on his knees trembling with cries. It could have been minutes or it could have been years. But a light appeared, it was soft and gentle; so unlike the penetrating brightness of all the other angels. This caressed rather than blinded; healed instead of burned. God stepped through the darkness and approached Dean.

Dean shrunk away, the awful empty pit inside of him had come back with a vengeance. He was empty, a black hole of nothing. After everything he'd done there was nothing left, he'd fought and nothing had come of it but to lower him to a state of misery of which he had never suffered, not even in hell. Anything bright and pure seemed too good for him. Sobs shook through him as he thought of how he'd pretended like he could cleanse himself. Hopelessness had entered him. He was an empty hollow person. Nothing could fill that and he had never deserved to have it filled.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched back.

"Dean." God's voice was nothing like how it had been when he'd first heard the call for revenge.

"You don't have to hold that anymore."

There was a pause as pain subsided enough for coherence.

"I don't understand."

Bright green eyes moved to meet the iridescent ones of God. They were streaked with despair and bathing in sorrow. Dean's voice was choked and deep in dolor.

God sighed, eyes also weary with difficulty. He had asked the most from the man before him.

"It's not yours. It was mine, and has always been mine. You had to carry it for a while but I need it back now."

Dean fumbled with where he had kept the gun, he pulled it from its resting place and set it in the hand of God. The moment it touched God's hand it disappeared and the deity looked at Dean with a gentle smile on his face.

"I didn't mean that."

Dean's confusion manifested itself on his face. He had nothing left to give. God gave a soft chuckle before gripping Dean's hand to raise him to his feet.

"It won't make sense now. But you can leave it behind and go. You have so many people waiting for you."

Dean was pulled to his feet and then God was gone. All that was left was a path. Dean followed it. Each step seemed to drain him, remind him of the evil that he had done. It was pure agony but Dean kept on walking until he stumbled and started to fall. A strong arm caught him and pulled him back to his feet.

"Whoa there, you're walking like you had a drinking contest with Bobby."

Dean was amazed and shocked when he turned his head to see Sam. He glanced down at his brother's stomach but there was no knife wound. Sam was whole and smiling. Dean opened his mouth to say something but found he couldn't form words to express how he was feeling.

"It's alright Dean." Sam said, eyes warm with love and care.

"I gotcha."

Sam hooked one of Dean's arms around his shoulders and wrapped an arm around Dean's waist. They started walking again, Dean stunned at seeing his brother again. The thoughts and weight of everything came back though and once more Dean stumbled. Another arm came out of nowhere, strong and sure like Sam's was. He peered up in even greater shock to see his father smiling lovingly at him before glancing over at Sam.

"You got him Sam?"

Dean watched as Sam nodded. His dad took his other arm and placed it around his own shoulder. His dad then wrapped an arm around his waist. They began walking again, Sam and his dad practically carrying him. Still somehow though, as they walked, Dean felt his body weighed down. This time a soft hand came to raise his head from off his chest.

"Dean, it's alright. Let us help you."

It was his mom, smile just as warming and safe as it had been when he was a child.

"Mom?"

Dean whispered, voice filled with emotion and awe.

"Yeah baby, it's me."

She carded a hand through his hair before cradling his jaw again with her hand.

"We still need to keep going, can you do that for me?"

Dean nodded. Exhausted he pushed himself to take another step, his family around him and helping him along. Words of encouragement began to come from them, intonations of forgiveness and love. The weight that had settled on him began to lighten. Step after step, Dean made his way down the path, his family carrying him along with their words. They continued until he came to another door.

Dean looked around at his family before looking at the door with hesitancy.

"It's alright Dean, you can go in."

Dean frowned at his brother's words.

"Where does it go?"

"It's to heaven."

"Will you guys go with me?"

All three nodded their heads.

"And you'll stay?"

"Forever." Sam responded.

Dean looked at the door. He had one last weight sitting on his shoulders and with a thought he stepped forward and set his hand on the knob of the door. He twisted the the knob and opened the door, the weight falling away.

Dean stepped through, light filling him, a type of light that was peaceful and joyful. He closed his eyes and took another step. Dean could feel his family around him, strong caring hands and voices carrying him. And then Dean took the last step through.

* * *

The End.


End file.
